Tuna Foam
by Dreamnorn
Summary: One fateful night, on the shores of that one island in the middle of nowhere, Italy decides to make a new recipe. Tuna foam, anyone? CRACK FIC, dl;dr. Rated for language.


**Inspired by a rather unusual recipe I found in an Italian cookbook I bought for fifty cents in Idyllwild. I'm not sure if there's information for it on the Internet anywhere (as I couldn't find many results for it on Google), but according to the book, it was very popular in Italy in the '20s.**

_**Please note that I wrote it to feel intentionally bad/crack-ficcy.**_** I think if I attempted to write it any other way, I would have died.**

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Tuna Foam

As far as allies went, Italy was not one of the strongest nor bravest nor brightest – but damn the pants off of Germany if Italy wasn't a good cook (or maybe you should damn them off anyway). One of the things Germany and Japan always looked forward to was the brunet's meals, from pizza to tortellini to lasagna to other Italian-sounding things that they weren't sure what they were but they ate anyway because it all tasted bitching. Some of the food was so wonderful that they considered using it to make peace with the Allied Forces, but really, who would want to share such delicacies?

This is why on one fateful evening on the recurring island in the middle of nowhere, Germany and Japan easily had a moment that registered at least a nine out of ten on the What-the-Fuck-o-Meter.

"_Finito!_ My new recipe is a go!"

Spontaneously, the hungry countries procured silverware and dealt bowls out of seemingly nowhere. With a polite smile on his face, Japan asked, "Italy-san, what delightful meal have you prepared tonight? You said it was a new recipe?"

"It is! The idea isn't new, though; I got that from my brother."

"And what would that be?" Germany prodded, anxious to sink his teeth into anything the Italian cooks because Italy's a regular Chuck Norris in the kitchen.

"_Spuma di tonno_ – or, as my brother likes to call it, tuna foam!"

Italy beamed as his friends were immediately silenced. Japan's face turned green and, being the unashamedly Japan-like person he is, sensed the mood and refrained from speaking.

Germany, however, did not.

"Tuna foam?"

"_Essato!_"

"Don't… uhhh…" Germany winced as he searched for a question which, surprisingly enough, was proving difficult to find. "Don't fish have bones?"

"And eyeballs! Want to try some?"

Germany's mouth formed that stern-looking flat line that it usually makes when he has no idea what the hell to make of a situation. Japan used all his energy to suppress his gag reflex. It would have probably been seen as very rude if Italy had noticed it at all which, I hasten to say, he didn't because his eyes are _always shut_.

"Never mind," Italy chuckled, "I already know what you're going to say. Here, I'll give you each a biiiiiiiiiig helping! Bigger than either of you, I'm sure!"

Germany did a spit take with the air he was inhaling. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me! I made enough tuna foam to make two twice-as-big statues out of you and Japan. I _know_ it'll be bigger!"

As Italy started pouring portions of the appalling-looking substance into bowls, Germany made a mental note to stop hanging around Prussia out of fear that he would get a more perverted mind than he had, apparently, already possessed.

Meanwhile, on self-proclaimed Homosexual Island's cliff top, the Allied Forces were watching. As usual, France had silently gagged China and was dragging him into the bushes without anyone noticing. Also as usual, America was looking at the Axis through binoculars. "Okay, dudes! Listen to me as I make my total awesome hero report!"

"Fuck you, da," Russia said politely.

America ignored him. "Germany looks constipated again – seriously, does he _ever_ take a shit? Japan doesn't look much better, like he's about to upchuck all over his shoes. And I think Italy snorted something because he looks like he's on more of a high than usual. And _man,_ what is _up_ with those wurst footies that Germany is wearing…?"

While the younger country openly talked about observations no one was listening to nor caring about, England took a deep breath. An enticing smell reached his nostrils. The aroma carried a magical quality, one more powerful than all of the food of Britain combined.

_Good gracious, just what is that tantalizing, alluring, luscious, (insert 57 other synonyms for "yummy") smell?_

"Give me the binoculars."

America trailed off and stared at England. "Huh? But why? It's not like anything intere—."

England promptly threw him on the ground, stealing the binoculars. Fixing his eyes on the alien glop in the Axis Powers's bowls, a steady stream of saliva began to trail from his mouth.

"By George, I simply _must_ try that! It looks unbelievable!"

"Unbelievable is right, da," Russia nodded, using his naked eye to spy on the Axis Powers with precision accuracy because he's Motherfucking Russia. "I never saw Italy as the type to poison his allies."

"Sod off, commie git. I need to try it!"

Russia kol'd quietly and ghosted off to drink himself into a happy stupor.

America made a face. "Iggy, I knew you had bad taste, but that stuff looks inhuman. Wouldn't you rather—?"

He was cut off again as England yanked America's collar so that they were looking eye-to-eye. England's mouth was practically frothing with desire. "I. _Need._ To _try_ it."

"Dude, whatever."

And now, back to the Axis!

Japan will not be mentioned again because he left due to not doing anything of particular importance. Meanwhile, Italy was ve-ing sadly at Germany. "Come on, Germany! At least try it. Did I mention that there are potatoes in this?"

Germany's expression changed immediately. "What? Potatoes?" While Germany couldn't care less about tuna, potatoes made up one of the four German food groups (along with beef, bacon, and beer). His mouth began to water. He had not satisfied his potato cravings in a while. "Well, I guess I could—"

"HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!"

Suddenly, descending on a rainbow from the clouds, England emerged upon a pink fluffy unicorn which proceeded to dance its way towards the Axis Powers. As Germany pondered the logic of rainbows appearing at night, Italy morphed the tuna foam into a flag and began to wave it. "AAAH! Don't kill me, England! I'm sorry I built hair-grower on your eyebrows and that I burned your good ties when I got bored and—"

"Change that flag back into that _marvelous-tasty-ohmygod_-smelling delicacy this instant!"

Italy changed it back that instant.

"Nein! You can't have any of it," Germany boomed. "I haven't eaten potatoes in months, even if it _is_ in tuna foam!"

"Preventing me from reaching culinary nirvana, ehhh?" England laughed, a sinister aura swirling around him. Fortunately, Germany's patented Manly Meter was too high to be intimidated by it. "Then I challenge you to a duel!"

England procured a magical lance and reared back on his unicorn, which snorted smoke in a violent and cartoon-esque way. Italy set the tuna foam next to the fire and dropped onto all fours so Germany could nonsexually mount him. Germany drew out Herr Schtick.

"_En garde!_"

England and Germany charged towards each other, their lances and Herr Schticks at the ready. After a long and epic two and a half seconds, England was unceremoniously dismounted. He had lost.

"Blast! How could I possibly lose? I've never seen such injustice!"

"THIS SOUNDS LIKE A JOB FOR THE HERO!"

From his spot on the cliff top, America dramatically tore off his shirt to reveal a Captain America costume. He flew like the wind and picked up England bridal-style, knocking Herr Schtick out of Germany's hands and grabbing Italy's bowl of tuna foam from where it laid in the sand. A heroic theme tune played in the background as he flew with England into the sunset, once again making Germany wonder how that was possible since it's _still nighttime._

Italy stood up on two legs again and blinked. "Ve~ I'm not surprised. I always knew America was a hero."

"I guess you're right," Germany nodded, "Now let's eat some—"

He looked to the spot where the tuna foam used to be. There was now a small drawing in the sand that had a crude rendition of what appeared to be Germany dying from Captain America's laser vision (which, I'm fairly sure, isn't one of his superpowers).

"WHERE DID IT GO?" he shouted.

"I hate it when bad guys like England steal good food, don't you? But that's okay, Germany, I can make you pasta!"

Germany cringed. "_Again,_ Italy?"

"What else?"

"Of course. Well, then… I _guess_ that sounds okay."

"Oh, and Germany?"

"Yes?"

"I think America knocked Herr Schtick into the fire."

"NOOOOOOOOOO—"

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**I mean… I can't… I don't even…**

**Sorry if I destroyed your sanity with this, but the idea was too good to resist. I probably should be shot for how much fun this was to write.**


End file.
